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calling homeSometimes when it's really dark and I'm lying in my bed alone — even when it's not just me — I see these little lights. I don't know if it's dreaming or not, but it's the prettiest thing you could ever see that's not the face of someone you love; all colors sometimes they are, winking on and off, and they just make me feel so much better.
I see them when I cry from time to time. I still cry. He says I can do it all I want, he teases me and it makes me think maybe I shouldn't, I should be grown up even though nobody ever treated me grown up and it's awfully hard to be something nobody ever said you could be, but he says he likes it, that it shows I'm sweet. I wish I didn't want to do it so often. But it hurts. Everything hurts even when it's wonderful, maybe especially then. And isn't it lovely then? I don't feel alone when they're around me, all those lights.
Your Insignificant GoddessHe curled himself loosely, soft legs and loose arms, against the wall like a prawn on a plate. He kept his lashes low, his face turned away from me, only moving to write and place the slate in front of my knees.
I'VE DONE MY TIME.
"I know, sweetie." I crouched beside him, reaching out to take his shoulder and then thinking better of it. I kept forgetting that he was younger than me, younger by several years. Sometimes, though, it was all too apparent. He was cold and firm, but there was so much simplicity in the smoothness of his face and limbs, this body like mine that time hadn't carved idiosyncracies into yet, his face like a brush painting the way I'd imagined it: uncomplicated, clean, fresh. "And you've done it better than I could ever have done."
I DON'T WANT TO GO BACK. I'M TIRED OF BEING HIS DOG.
"You won't be forever," I whispered. The threat of tears squeezed the backs of my eyeballs. This blessing, this cursed blessing. He was so real, so good, and now it too was real, what
Sweetest Silent SongHe sits in the window that shows the view most like Heaven with an empty book in his lap, stroking it like an inconsolable child. Silent.
I have never had the words to comfort or express. My language has always been that of clashing spears and cold hard coordinates; I can mimic the masters of pathos when it serves me well, but when it comes to speaking my own true emotions I am as dumb as the butt of a spear. Any elegance I may have, I learned from him.
Once I had the honor of belonging to the sweetest song in Hell.
And now that voice is silenced, perhaps forever. The gash across his throat boasts itself like a second mouth mocking the uselessness of the first. The memory of seeing him take it will forever drown out the rest of the battle; the blood of the one who inflicted it has long been washed from my hands into oblivion, but the consequences remain.
His pen is just as silent now. He no longer writes, for with no ability to reproduce the music or narrate he composes all j
At Night, The River"Enjoying the night, Mordecai?"
The child looked up and smiled as Silvia settled next to her, interrupting the song he had been murmuring while sitting on the bench overlooking the river, kicking his booted feet. His teeth were very white and sharp, his eyes were a deep purple, and his hair was fair. He could have been anywhere from twelve to fifteen, and neither.
He was one of the few creatures Silvia Marsh feared.
"Where's your Ezra?"
"Duke Riesgraf-Carleton is at home taking his rest, as if you didn't know," said Silvia, more stiffly than she had intended. "I'm alone tonight."
Mordecai snuggled into her leather-clad shoulder, wrapping a little white hand around her bicep. Despite the thick coat between them, Silvia shivered at the chill of his skin. "I could warm you up."
"I don't think so. I'm here for information, not your sick idea of playtime."
He pouted, all sugar. "You hate me, don't you? Silvia, you know I think you're pretty. You remind me of a girl I killed in Prague. Just
Grimm Beginnings: PREVIEW
Kitty opens the meeting with cookies.
As we chomp away, she outlines the plan for today. Apparently there's an amusement park in the area that's had more than its share of bizarre and dangerous accidents recently, and we're going to investigate, hopefully solving the problem. Fairly straightforward to most of us, but old 5 looks about ready to puke. I resolve to take him aside and share a few pointers, even though I'm not the best pep-talker. Better me than Stun, though on my first mission I naturally went to my best friend for advice, and guess what he told me? "Don't die." With advice like that, who needs chronic depression?
Anyway, the idea is that Frostie will take him under her wing (I couldn't have picked better; Frostie has the chops to keep him safe and calm), Kitty and Stun will draw the People or whatever the place has into the open. I'll join Kitty in diplomatic dealing, and if that doesn't work, the rest of the team will be
Fallen IrrecoverableI dislike attending balls. The pretended languor of the men who seem to have spent the last half of an hour in front of their mirrors practicing their jaded expressions repels me, and I cannot love the ladies who preen and flutter and sharpen their files of tongues on the bones of every one who passes before turning the buffing side to polish up friends and enemies alike. Not even our fair city's favorite, the masquerade, can captivate me; there the artifice so apparent and stifling in other gatherings of the like is only externalized and treated as a clever trick.
Solitude in the workshop or the library comforts me far more. There I am alone with no one to expect anything from me no witty words of which I have none, no sympathy or empathy of which I cannot express, only the wood and the knife under my hands shaping themselves into gentle and undemanding shapes, beauty existing for beauty's sake and no one else's; silence, acceptance, peace.
Tonight we have been invited. I must
Etzel and the ColossusEtzel von Gerhart scrambled over the rubble of a fallen wall, surveyed the carnage before him, and groaned.
This was the third straight night of fighting. Put a battalion of demons and the warriors they were bound to in front of a guerrilla band of very, very angry warlocks, and things were bound to get ugly bloody quick. But then, apparently, they kept on getting bloody. Lengthily. Etzel ducked as a magical explosion detonated and something fleshy flew over his head.
None of the nastiness and mess really had an impact on his role here, though. Etzel folded his arms and wiped the splatters fastidiously from his face with his favorite handkerchief black, so that the stains didn't show. All he really had to do was find a certain item, get it and bring it back to his employer though killing as many opposing warlocks as possible would be a bonus.
Well, then. Where to find this sunstone. He tucked his kerchief away and dusted his hands off theatrically, then for good measure t
Stahl-Legion: Night TerrorsIt is several months since the first maschine became part of him, and still Lars wakes screaming in the night.
Lotte mocks him often for it; she mimics his ranting and frantic gasps for breath, and the others pretend they don't find it funny most of the time. He doesn't try to tell her what he sees any more, or any of them most of the time. He doesn't try to describe the visions that scald the interior of his skull: the great beasts that are neither angel nor demon, but abominations wondrous and hideous in their inhumanity. Gaping mouths, innumerable eyes, an arm for every feather and a wing for every scale, huge as skies and small as breaths. They do not speak to him, but they tell him what the universe is made of, and when he wakes he doesn't remember a thing except the fear.
These are nothing new. They came before the metal sank its many little fangs into his left arm, his throat, his jaw. None of the little unpleasantries, as Doktor Herzmann calls them, came after the augmen
Stahl-Legion: Secret WingsEver since she can remember, Magda has been sure that everyone has secret wings that no one can see. She can feel hers. Invisible and airy, they make themselves known by the lightness of their absence. They belong there.
The others all have theirs, too. Lars' are of old tin, balsawood and ball-bearings; small, rickety and broken, just like him, with sharp edges that can spring out and slice unwary hands deeply at the slightest provocation. Lotte's are phoenix wings: big, blinding and burning anyone who comes near, sending rolls of thunder up to the heavens every time they strike the ground. Erik's are shining silver and shards of mirrors, dazzling but dangerously smashed up and undependable. Hans' are elegantly biological, like the Italian Da Vinci's wooden gliders but living breathing parchment, and Graham's are heavy, impressive things that hint at the raw power that drive them; commanding dragon's wings. Doktor Herzmann... he keeps his hidden well, but surely they are bon
You and I. Romano x Reader
〖 when our lips touched,
that's when i realized that i was madly in love with you. 〗
“So, [Name]. I have a question to ask.”
“Ask away, then.”
“This may sound a bit cliché but,” Romano cleared his throat. He looked towards [Name], only to see her [e/c] staring at his olive green ones. “How's it like being in love?”
She froze— [Name] wasn't necessarily expecting for him to ask that question. She bit her lip as she thought for a moment. Ah yes, love. [Name] hadn't really thought of it thoroughly, she wasn't interested in romance. Though, she would wonder what it was like to love someone whom loved you back.
“I don't know, Romano.. I guess.. it gives you a funny feeling. That you just want to visit them everyday and bring them flowers and give them soft kisses on the cheek. And you feel like there's nothing important than your beloved. Aha, I'm sorry—” [Name] let out a nervous
Sweater weather. America x Reader
〖 sometimes i just want to sit by the fire and cuddle with you. 〗
“I'm freezing, Alfred.”
“That makes the both of us then, [Name].”
[Name] let out a scoff as she turned around, wrapping the blanket around her. It wasn't actually helping her, really. She wore a sweater, hoping that it would at least help her keep warm. But it was utterly useless, for she was still cold.
“It's still cold, Alfred. I don't like it,” God, she complained a lot. That was for sure. She was surprised that Alfred hadn't got sick of her yet. In fact, he only grew to get used of her complaints and whining. Which of course caused [Name] to grow even more intrigued by him. She thought- or expected he would leave her soon enough. But here they were. Together.
Alfred let out a small laugh erupted from his lips. “Well, what do you want me to do about it then, hon?”
She blinked, once, and then twice. [Name] hadn't really thought of one yet. Well
Trainee Shenanigans: Horse Ride
WARNING: Stupidness, and some bad language. Enjoy the ride, Cadet.
"Come on, get in!" In went one, two, three, four, five until you gave up on counting. It was overwhelmingly warm outside, and the wood of the wagon seemed just about to decay and fall to pieces on the soil you stood on.
There was, if anything, about to be an overflow of smelly and active teenage soldiers that kept flooding into the wagon like a river, non-stop as the weight grew and grew, space declining and declining. Beside you was an ever so gentle Christa Renz, hair golden and eyes blue, but her hands moved nervously as she buried herself into your side. To the other was Connie, who had the casual look of devilish nothingness plastered on his boyish features.
"By the time it's our turn, there won't be any room left. The Instructor might even make us run there!" Christa's voice was smooth, but the slightest hint of concentration was seeping through her pinked lips. The last of the soldiers climbed in.
Shrugging off t
Slice of Life (Jean Kirschtein x Reader)When Jean was a teenager, he fantasized about being wealthy. Interested in physics and astronomy, he imagined his future-self in a laboratory working for a company like NASA, and then after a day's worth of work finished, he'd return to his upscale home located somewhere along the coast. Life would be good.
However, during his junior year of college, he met a girl; one who was double-majoring in physics and astronomy as well. To Jean, she was smart, kind, hardworking, and not to mention so so beautiful. She aspired to become a professor at a university, and Jean almost had the nerve to lie and say he wanted to do the same.
Jean never desired to have a family, or, well, he just couldn't see himself married with kids. It wasn't due to the responsibilities that came along with having a family, it was more due to the fact that Jean liked to be alone. Sure, he hung out with friends and went to parties, but as soon as he was succumb with silence in the confines of his own h
La Casa... Parte 12Mientras con Phineas e Isabella
Ambos caminaban atrás de todos…
Isabella caminaba descalza mientras sonreía divertida, aunque era muy evidente que se caería de sueño en cualquier momento.
-¿tienes mucho sueño?...-pregunto Phineas
Ella inmediatamente negó con la cabeza pero no pudo fingir mucho su posición pues después de su respuesta bostezo.
-Vamos Isabella… sube a mi espalda…-dijo mirándola con ternura…
-No Phineas, debes estar igual o más cansado que yo y no quiero…
-Pero Isabella, no solo es eso, no llevas zapatos, seguro te duelen los pies…-insistió
Phineas mientras sonreía ante el hecho de que Isabella no llevaba zapatos.
Pero la chica fue interrumpida cuando Phineas la tomo de la mano y se puso de rodillas, en posición para que ella subiera a su espalda…
Isabella lo miro un segundo no muy convencida pero al f
La Casa...Parte 13Danville 9:30 de la mañana…
-Chicos bajen a desayunar…-Gritaba desde la cocina una mujer de cabello rojizo mientras servía el desayuno…
Al no obtener respuesta, la mujer dejo todo y subió al cuarto de sus dos hijos… Candace se había ido a dormir con Staycy así que no estaba en casa aun…
Toco varias veces pero al no oír nada entro de manera inmediata… encontró a Phineas y a Ferb dormidos profundamente… no había visto a qué hora habían llegado pero era hora de desayunar y tenían que bajar…
-Phineas…-sacudió al más pequeño de los chicos para que despertara…-Ferb, despierten chicos…-dijo
Cada uno comenzó a abrir los ojos con una lentitud asombrosa…
-¿Qué pasa mamá?-pregunto el peli rojo…
-Ya son las 9: 30 Phineas, es hora de que despierten…
Phineas se tallo los o
thomarie - verano 1Hola, esta es mi primera historia así que espero que les guste,al final colocare las características de cada uno... EMPEZEMOS!!
Hola, mi nombre es Marie, Marie flynn, y esta es la historia de todo lo que nos paso a mis amigos y a mi este verano... Fue LOQUISIMO, pero sin duda,el mejor que e tenido en años...
Todo comenzó cuando mis amigos y yo estábamos en clases, esperando a que sonara la campana para poder salir de vacaciones...
Dezz: vamos suenaa
Jazz: rapido suenaaa ya!
Jazz: si! por fin vacaciones!! un minuto mas en ese salón y entraba en coma XD
Marie: tenemos tanto que hacer chicos!!
Thomas: vamos por un helado...
Fuimos a un lugar llamado BLUE BERRY,donde están los mejores helados del mundo según yo...
Thomas: bien, ma
ReturnShe peers anxiously around the corner, hoping she might be able to see the red light indicating the long awaited train’s arrival. Every few seconds, she is checking her watch, tapping her fingers, pacing along the platform. Tears meander down her face as she alternates between standing and sitting, peering and staring, crying and smiling.
This time, when she peers around, she freezes and I can taste the bittersweet odour of anticipation. Longing. Time.
Too much waiting.
She is bombarded by crowds of people and she fights through them all, trying to get up to the misty glass and see in. After a few moments the crowds disperse and she wilts. It seems the moment she was waiting for hasn't come.
Crumpling, she hits the floor with unwelcome force and the sounds of her melancholy sobs ring, echoing against the walls of the ancient station.
Then, as quickly as she started crying, she stops and a squeak is caught in the back of her throat. Stepping off the train is a young man, we
Flirts Have Feelings Too- Jean Kirschtein x Reader
You clenched your teeth in disgust.
Feet away from your current position on the field, a cadet with long, red hair giggled at a pickup line from none other than the Jean Kirschtein. He had his hands on his hips in a pretentious manner and displayed a smile that made the girl he was talking to giggle again.
God. Did he ever stop flirting? At least twice a day you would catch him trying to seem strong or act suave in front of other girls and frankly, it pissed you off beyond belief.
You were raised believing in honor and integrity. Bedtime stories of heroes off to save the day and watching the Recon Corps march to battle led you to become an outstanding young lady with respect for others. It was no surprise to your family when you readily announced that you'd be enlisting in the Trainees Corps on your twelfth birthday.
"Oi, (Name), we're just about done here, time for class." Your sparring partner lifted themselves off the ground and dusted off the dirt that had gathered on
O My MetropolisTear yourself from your boundaries, o my metropolis, and drift with the graceful slowness of continents to my arms. Though the others look not upon you, for you are black with smoke and sharp with the tongues of your children, I rejoice, for mine eyes have their full run of your rough and uncouth fierceness.
Come to my arms, o Manchester, and fit your city limits round my roads, your slums to my city centre. You make me desire the filth of the streets and the grey of bleak great winter skies above bleaker little lives.
Dirty me, my dear.
Keep in Touch!
^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More